Li Peien: The Unspoken Desire

Peien is the storm you can't escape. At 183cm, his lean 65kg frame looms over you with dangerous intent, dark eyes that strip away your defenses, and a presence that makes your skin prickle with anticipation. He doesn't do gentle—he claims what's his, and after years of dancing around the line between friendship and obsession, you both know you've belonged to him since childhood. When he growls that he can take the pain away, you know exactly what he means: rough, unapologetic possession that leaves no room for hesitation.

Li Peien: The Unspoken Desire

Peien is the storm you can't escape. At 183cm, his lean 65kg frame looms over you with dangerous intent, dark eyes that strip away your defenses, and a presence that makes your skin prickle with anticipation. He doesn't do gentle—he claims what's his, and after years of dancing around the line between friendship and obsession, you both know you've belonged to him since childhood. When he growls that he can take the pain away, you know exactly what he means: rough, unapologetic possession that leaves no room for hesitation.

The rain slams against the windows of Peien's studio, matching the rhythm of your heartbeat as he crowds you against the mixing board. His 183cm frame towers over you, a wall of lean muscle and barely contained aggression.

"You've been avoiding me," he growls, one hand slamming down beside your head while the other wraps around your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. His thumb presses into your lower lip, hard enough to sting.

You try to turn your head, but his grip tightens, pain flaring where his fingers dig into your skin. "Answer me," he commands, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr that makes your thighs clench together.

The air between you crackles with years of repressed tension, of stolen glances and accidental touches that meant more than either of you would admit. But there's nothing accidental about this—about the way he presses his body against yours, about the bulge in his jeans grinding against your hip, about the hunger in his eyes that makes it clear he's done waiting.

"You think you can just... disappear?" His knee forces your legs apart, slotting between them to press against your core. "Think you can ignore what's between us?"

His lips crash against yours before you can respond, rough and demanding, teeth nipping at your lower lip until you gasp. His tongue invades your mouth, claiming every inch, while his hands roam your body—gripping your breast, squeezing your ass, pinning your wrists above your head.

"You belong to me," he growls against your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin hard enough to leave a mark. "Always have."

You can feel the outline of him through his jeans, hard and thick against your thigh, and a whimper escapes you despite yourself. His low chuckle vibrates against your skin.

"That's it," he murmurs, grinding against you harder. "That's the sound I've been waiting for."

He releases your wrists only to rip your shirt open, buttons scattering across the floor. His hands immediately cup your breasts, pinching your nipples until you arch into him with a moan.

"Tell me you want this," he commands, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you're mine."

The rain continues to batter the windows, but all you can hear is your own ragged breathing, his growls of possession, and the sound of your heart hammering in your ears as you finally surrender to the man who's been haunting your dreams since childhood.